Razor Wire

by Lauren Gallagher

  No way. No fucking way.

  I couldn’t imagine it happening to her. Replaying that night, putting her in my place, I couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see her standing for one second of Stanton’s bullshit. Even when she was stressed or scared, even when instinct took over, MA2 Marion—Reese—didn’t lie down and take anything. I still got goose bumps thinking about an incident during training a few months back. We were supposed to be hit with pepper spray, and then fight off the Red Man—a trainer in a heavily padded red suit—before completing the obstacle course, all in the name of learning to defend ourselves and subdue suspects while enduring that intense pain.

  Reese hadn’t fought off the Red Man and then continued through the course. She’d taken all two hundred fifty pounds of him to the ground and beaten the ever-loving fuck out of him until Gutiérrez and two other guys pulled her off. When her fight instinct kicked in, she just didn’t stop.

  Stanton wouldn’t have succeeded with her. No way. I didn’t want to think about what kind of guy could. What kind of guy had.

  So maybe it was just curiosity that had me following the winding road through the sugar cane farms and villages from White Beach to Camp Shields. Whatever it was, I’d told her I’d be there, so I didn’t turn back when the gate came into sight. I slowed down as I approached the guard shack, but the sentry—a civilian contractor named Atsushi—knew me, and waved me through.

  Not far beyond the gate was the Enlisted Club. The parking lot was nearly empty, since the place wasn’t all that popular during the week, but I immediately homed in on Reese’s car. It was a piece-of-shit rust bucket just like everybody else’s on this island, mine included, but I’d seen it around enough to know it was hers.

  I parked a few spaces down and stepped out into the thick heat. Two feet away from the car, my head spun and my vision started to narrow. Damn it. I grabbed a lamppost and stood for a moment, breathing slowly and evenly. This had happened a few times when I’d first come to Okinawa, when I wasn’t quite used to the heat, but lately . . . well, I supposed I expected it. Fuck this pregnancy crap. Maybe I should’ve swung by the barracks and changed out of my uniform. At least a pair of shorts and flip-flops would keep me cooler than boots and all this camouflage.

  Eventually, the lightheadedness passed. When I was sure my legs were going to stay under me, I continued across the parking lot and into the E-club.

  Reese had already snagged a table near the windows along the far wall, away from the scattered families and clusters of uniformed guys. She was in uniform, too—the blue camouflage stood out against the reddish walls and curtains.

  I pulled out the chair opposite her. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She clung to a half-finished mason jar of water or Sprite or something. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I took a seat and faced her across the checkered tablecloth. “So, you wanted to talk.”

  She nodded and started to speak, but a waitress appeared beside us. I ordered an ice water, and when the woman had gone, faced Reese again. She took a deep breath. “Listen, I’ll get right to the point. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about yesterday because . . . God.” She rubbed the back of her neck and then let her arm drop onto the table. “I promised myself a long time ago I’d never be the cop who questioned another woman’s claim that she’d been assaulted. Ever. And then, yesterday, I did, and . . .” She exhaled hard. “I am so sorry, MA3.”

  “Kim.”

  Her eyebrows flicked up. “Hmm?”

  “Kim.” I swallowed. “My name’s Kim.”

  “Oh. And you’re, um, okay with me . . .”

  “We’re in uniform, but we’re not at work.”

  “True. I guess we’re not.” She avoided my eyes. “I’m . . . The reason I wanted to see you tonight. I . . .”

  Cautiously, I said, “We have something in common?”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat, and her hands suddenly seemed unsteady, shaking slightly as she wrung them behind the half-empty mason jar. “Which is why I felt especially bad about not taking you seriously right away. It’s . . .” She squirmed, her lips pulling tight, and then she gave a humorless laugh. “I’d talked myself into explaining what happened to me, and now—”

  “Don’t.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “I can read between the lines.”

  Her lips thinned as she searched my eyes.

  “Don’t,” I repeated. “I know how hard it is to talk about it.”

  Reese exhaled. “Yeah. It is. So when you tried to talk to me about what happened, I acted like a bitch. And I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are. And it’s water under the bridge.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. We’re cool.”

  Right then, the waitress arrived at the table with my drink, and I took a long swallow to moisten my dry mouth. “Out of curiosity, would you have believed me if I didn’t have the reputation I do?”

  Reese blinked.

  I waved a hand. “Yes, I know what people say about me.”

  Shaking her head, she sighed. “You’re absolutely right. And I know I shouldn’t have judged you like that.”

  I watched her for a moment. “Hypothetically, if I hadn’t gotten out of the car yesterday, would you still have taken me to the SARC if I’d asked you to?”

  “Of course!” She stared at me in horror. “I’d never keep you from filing a report.”

  “And if I’d wanted to make a statement to you, would you have taken it?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  I played with my straw and shrugged. “That’s all I needed. You know how it is. You’re a cop. You don’t have to believe anyone. That’s what judges and juries are for.”

  “Still, I—”

  “Reese.” I folded my arms on the table and leaned a little closer. “You’re a good cop. The fact that you’re trying to make this right says a lot.”

  She chewed her lip. “I just feel awful. I know I jumped to some really shitty conclusions, and . . . Hell, even if I was right about them, I had—”

  “I might’ve done the same, to be honest.”

  Reese’s lips parted. “What?”

  “Look, I’m not stupid. I know how people see me, and I’ve thought the same about other girls. It’s not really possible to be in the military without getting kind of cynical about everyone, you know?”

  “I’ll give you that.”

  “And, um . . .” I hesitated, then took a breath. “I actually knew a girl who filed a bullshit sexual assault report.”

  Reese groaned, rolling her eyes. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

  “It is.” I scowled. “This E4 at my first command was banging her way through the ranks while we were at sea. And that wasn’t just rumors—we’d all caught her and her dick of the week hiding somewhere on the ship while we were making the rounds at night.”

  She laughed dryly. “People do get creative when they fuck on a boat, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, they do.” I managed a slight laugh myself, but it didn’t last. “Anyway, Senior Chief found out she’d slept with a married chief and decided to make an example out of both of them. Before that came out, though, she was bragging to a couple of girls in the berthing that she’d nailed Chief that night. The minute Senior Chief decided to charge them? She said Chief raped her.” I gritted my teeth at the memory. “Why do you think it took me so long to even consider reporting Stan—reporting what happened?”

  Reese squirmed uncomfortably, hugging herself as if she were cold in spite of her heavy uniform. “What . . . what happened to them?”

  “Don’t know. I gave my statement and transferred before they’d gotten very far into the investigation. I never heard how it turned out.”

  “They probably hemmed him up,” she growled, rubbing a hand over her face. “And she probably stayed in and got promoted. But then when someone is really assaulted . . .”

  “Right? And when it really happens, it’s in a command
like this where it’ll blow up in the victim’s face.” I shook my head and went for my drink again. “So, I get it. I get why you questioned me. To be perfectly honest, I might’ve done the same thing. But I still would’ve taken a statement and taken the person to the SARC, and so would you. So . . .” I shrugged, then brought my glass up to take another swallow.

  She folded her fingers under her chin. “I was definitely wrong about you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Some color rushed into her cheeks, and she nodded. “I won’t try to excuse it. I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry.”

  I set my glass down and folded my hands. “Then maybe we could start fresh.”

  She met my eyes. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I could really use a female friend here.”

  “I understand that. We’re a million miles from home, surrounded by guys. It does get a little . . . isolating after a while.” She chewed her lip for a second. “Even without this shit going on, we could all use girlfriends.”

  “Exactly. So we start over, then? From the top?”

  “Yeah. From the top.” We both smiled, and for the first time in a long time, I felt some of the tension in my chest subside.

  “And for the record,” I said, “nothing you’ve heard about me is true. I have not slept with every—”

  “You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Kim.” She reached across the table and gently placed her hand on my arm. “Your personal life is your business.”

  “I know.” I swallowed. “But I need someone on this island to believe me.”

  “Okay. Tell me. Whatever it is.”

  I looked down at her hand on my wrist. “The way I dress and party, it’s . . .” I shook my head. “It doesn’t mean I sleep with every man who looks at me. I’ve never slept with a man on this island.” I paused, stomach churning. “Except for . . .”

  She squeezed my arm. “He doesn’t count.” Her lip curled slightly as she added, “I don’t think he even counts as a man.”

  I actually laughed at that and patted her hand.

  She smiled and sat back but quickly turned serious. “And yes, I do believe you.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “Look, I . . .” She took a deep breath and held my gaze. “I just, I want you to know, if you need anything, even if it’s just someone to talk to . . . I’m here.”

  I smiled in spite of the lump rising in my throat. “Thank you.” Then I lowered my gaze. “At least I probably won’t be in this predicament”—I gestured at my stomach—“too much longer.”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m, uh, taking leave.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “I’m flying out tomorrow, and . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I still hadn’t quite accepted I was doing it.

  “Do you need someone with you?” she asked quietly.

  Yes. Yes, I so do.

  But I shook my head. “No, I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, if you need anything, just text me. Here, let me give you my number.”

  We took out our phones and exchanged numbers as well as email addresses, and that tension in my chest eased a little more. Maybe we’d gotten off on the wrong foot, but I finally felt like I had an ally.

  And with everything that lay ahead, I was going to need one.

  I didn’t see Kim again before she left the island. According to Alejandro, she took an early-morning military flight from Kadena Air Base and was on her way to Hawaii, but she hadn’t specified why she was going. Not to me anyway, and if Alejandro knew, he wasn’t at liberty to disclose it.

  I hoped to God she just needed to get away from Okinawa and planned to spend the time soaking up the sun on another set of white-sand beaches, since every beach on this island was too damned close to Stanton. Maybe she just needed a little space to collect her thoughts.

  My gut feeling said otherwise, though. She hadn’t spelled it out, but . . .

  Twenty minutes before my shift started, I wandered into the precinct, desperate for coffee since the nicotine wasn’t keeping me awake. Some of the guys were milling around the office, enjoying the air-conditioning while they could before going out on patrol.

  And it didn’t take but five minutes for them to start.

  “Where’s Lockhoff?” Barkley leaned on the front desk, coffee cup in hand. “She have to get some poor dude’s dick surgically removed from her box?”

  The guys chuckled. A sick feeling coiled in my stomach.

  “Maybe she moved to night shift.” MA3 Jensen snickered. “Fresh meat, right?”

  More laughter. More of that awful, sick feeling.

  “I think she went on leave,” MA2 Lee said. “I saw a leave chit with her name on it. Didn’t look at the dates, though.”

  Jensen shrugged. “Don’t know. But, man, have you seen her recently?” He pointed over his shoulder toward the main office. “She had her blouse off yesterday, just her T-shirt on, and holy shit.” He cupped his hands a few inches in front of his own chest. “She has got some serious titties going on.”

  “Let’s hope she comes to the next barbecue, then.” MA2 Lee whistled. “She wears one of those bikini tops again? Aww shit.”

  The other guys laughed.

  “Yeah, she’ll probably be out to here, though.” Barkley made a gesture like he was conjuring a potbelly in front of himself. “Tits like that? I’ll bet my next paycheck somebody done knocked that girl up.”

  I couldn’t listen to it, so I topped off my coffee and started to get the hell out of there, but not before some more of the shit-talking made it to me:

  “Man, I would tap that. And hey, long as she’s got the kid in there—bareback all the way!”

  “No way, dude. Girl like her? I wouldn’t go in without a raincoat on.”

  “I wouldn’t go in without a hazmat suit on.”

  “Definitely wouldn’t put my face down—”

  “Hey.” I spun around in the doorway and glared at them. “Is this really how you’re going to talk about a fellow cop?”

  Jensen put up his hands. “Whoa. Sorry, MA2. But seriously, you’ve seen—”

  “Let’s get back out on patrol.” Lee smacked Barkley’s arm. “We might get to Camp Shields in time to see the moms doing their yoga in the park.”

  “Fuckers.” I stormed out of the office to the smoke pit, which was, thank God, empty. My hands were shaking so badly, I could barely get a cigarette out of the pack, never mind light it, but I finally succeeded and pulled in some smoke.

  I needed to quit smoking, but I didn’t see that happening anytime soon. Not until I got out of the Navy or transferred to a better command, anyway. My last deployment had driven me to start smoking. Alejandro had transferred back from Gitmo with a snuff habit, and I’d given him all kinds of shit for that—wasn’t like he didn’t know how poisonous it was—until I’d come home from Afghanistan smoking a pack and a half a day. Now I was pushing two and a half. Much longer on this island and I’d be a goddamned chain smoker.

  As I took another drag, a lead ball of guilt formed in my stomach. A week ago, I’d have been part of that conversation in the office. I probably would’ve come up with even cruder comments than they had. If I’d learned anything since I’d enlisted, it was that fitting in with these guys was the safest approach. If they’re being crass, be crasser. If they’re drunk, get drunker. If they think a girl’s a slut, declare her a whore with a pussy like a wizard’s sleeve.

  But that didn’t excuse the things I’d said. And I didn’t let myself wonder how many other women I’d misjudged because that train of thought would have taken me right through this pack of smokes.

  Weiss stepped out of the precinct. “Hey, MA2. We heading out on patrol?”

  “Yeah.” I snuffed out my dying cigarette. “Just need to arm up.”

  “All right.” He walked past me as I came down from the smoke pit.
“You do that, and I’ll have a smoke.”

  “Okay. Back in a minute.”

  On my way to the armory, I passed Stanton’s office, and the sound of his voice through the closed door gave me chills.

  “Well, I dodged a bullet with that one, that’s for sure.” He chuckled, and I stopped dead in my tracks. “She had me worried.”

  Someone laughed, and it took me a second to recognize Chief Wolcott’s voice. “Yeah, if you’d had to explain this to Susan, you could’ve sold tickets to the fireworks show.”

  A third person laughed, and my heart sank.

  Alejandro? You? Please, no . . .

  “You’re a braver man than I am, Sir.” That was definitely his voice.

  “What can I say?” Stanton said. “Have you seen the ass on that girl?”

  “Yeah, can’t blame you.” Chief’s low voice was obviously not meant to carry out of the room. “That girl offered it up, I might take a shot at it myself.”

  “Yeah, right.” Alejandro snickered. “Talk all the shit you want, Chief.” It sounded like he’d clapped the man’s arm. “We all know you’re afraid of Tomi.”

  “Lieutenant’s afraid of his wife and that didn’t stop him!”

  “Well,” Stanton said, “what she doesn’t know won’t hurt me, will it?”

  All three of them laughed. I didn’t know if I wanted to knock the door down and kick their asses, or lean against the wall and cry.

  Chief Wolcott. Alejandro. Two members of our chain of command—two people who could’ve been allies for Lockhoff—laughing and joking with the man who’d assaulted her. I knew how this would end: if she reported what happened to either of them now, they’d brush it off because they already believed Lieutenant Stanton.

  It was just as well Lockhoff was off-island at the moment.

  Because back here on Okinawa, she had nowhere to go.

  Well, that step was done.

  I walked out of the clinic, paperwork in hand, and took a deep breath of the humid Hawaiian air. I’d made the appointment. Off-base, of course—it wouldn’t have cost me anything to have it done at the hospital on Tripler Air Base just down the road, but there was no way I wanted this in my military medical record. I couldn’t risk anyone asking questions that might raise more questions.